We Can't Have Nice Things
by Windswift
Summary: Romano just wants to use her chapstick in peace. Fem!Romano and fem!Spain and silliness.


Disclaimer: _Axis Powers Hetalia_ belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz

The idea was to write a silly little snippet of fic based off the following prompt but then it became I don't even know:  
Fem!Romano is fond of chapsticks to keep her lips soft. Fem!Spain is fond of leaning over and smooching her directly afterwards instead of _just looking at the tube_ to see what kind it is.

**We Can't Have Nice Things**

"Romano, you realize you're holding that spoon from the wrong end, right?" Spain asks. She brushes Romano's curls aside so she can lean over her shoulder and look down at the stovetop, licking cinnamon sugar from the churros off her fingertips. "Mm, why do you even need a spoon anyway?"

Spain asks a lot of dumb questions, so Romano just exhales sharply through her nose, clutches the wooden spoon tighter in her left hand, and whisks at the pot of chocolate on the stove. The chocolate drips thin and runny from the wires of the whisk when she holds it up-not done yet.

"Hmm," Spain echoes beside her ear. "Turn the heat up a little more, I bet, or the churros are going to go cold waiting and I don't think this'll hurt any-_shit!_" Spain yanks her hand back from the knob and retreats to the side, out of spoon range, to examine the back of her knuckles while Romano painstakingly adjusts the heat back to the proper setting. "Roma, that wasn't very cute at all," she pouts. "What was that for?"

Romano huffs. Spain's job is to take care of the churros for breakfast, damnit. She specifically charged _Romano_ with the task of cooking the hot chocolate to dip them in, and Romano is _not _holding the spoon by the wrong end, because the handle has less surface area so it's the equivalent of yelling all this in Spain's ear as she smacks at Spain's meddling. Romano has nothing against just yelling at her, but Spain's too stupid to listen the first five times and Romano has a little split in her bottom lip this morning that she's trying to baby along before it stretches and bleeds and fucking stings.

"It's my kitchen," Spain grouses. She nudges her toes against the side of Romano's foot. "You're mean... I can help cook in my own kitchen without getting hit."

Romano scrapes the sides of the pot with the whisk and ignores her. Spain's a hopeless dumbass, but even she'll keep her hands to herself for at least a minute now-so Romano sets her spoon down out of Spain's reach and prods at her lip. It still hurts, tender and threatening to tear.

Romano pulls her chapstick out from the front of her dress, where she stashed it to carry down to the kitchen with her, and dabs petulantly at the raw spot before smoothing it over the rest of her lips. Then she turns to set it on the table and very nearly runs smack into Spain's stupid face-if not for Spain's hands grabbing the front of her shoulders-as Spain intercepts her with a kiss, her lips moving insistently over Romano's own.

Spain leaves stray sugar crystals sticking all gritty to the chapstick around Romano's mouth, and Romano tightens her hand into a fist around the chapstick tube and thumps Spain in the arm. Spain lingers before she pulls away, flicking the tip of her tongue across her lips. "Pomegranate!" Spain decides with a nod. "Ooh, I like that one."

Romano wrinkles her nose and-even though she's going to get a heavier dusting of cinnamon and sugar the moment she takes her first bite of churro-swipes the back of her wrist across her mouth to scrub the sugar off and start again. "What the hell, you do that every time, moron," Romano grumbles as she pops the cap off the chapstick. "Why can't you just read the damn label on the tube if you want to know what kind it is..."

"Well, but it's in German," Spain replies, which isn't actually stopping her but Romano doesn't argue the point anyway, because she's too busy flinging the chapstick away. It clatters against the side of the saucepan of chocolate as it bounces and ricochets across the counter. Spain ducks for good measure, with her hands over her ears, which seems a little silly under the circumstances until Romano is shrieking _fuck_.

Romano rubs each of her fingertips over her lips, quick and rough, to wipe off every trace of probably-gross-cootie-contaminated chapstick. Screw pampering her lip, it hurts like hell and Romano's pretty sure it's bleeding now but she'll live. And _maybe_ this misfortune falls to people who dig through their sister's purse when they're too lazy to go all the way upstairs to look for something, but Romano doesn't steal Veneziano's things, okay, just borrows and forgets to return, and if Veneziano never asks for these things back it's probably because they weren't important to her in the first place, obviously, and anyway Veneziano does the same thing surely and _this isn't fair_. That busybody Germany bitch shouldn't go around giving her shitty half-used castoffs to Romano's little sister in the first place!

"Romano, I really wish you wouldn't make those gagging sounds right before breakfast," Spain interrupts. She's pretty sure Romano's just being silly and faking, so she tucks Romano up against her chest and strokes her hair, patting her between the shoulders.

"Shut up, fuck you," Romano mumbles into the front of Spain's blouse. "I can't believe it's like I kissed that damn potato-it's disgusting! It's bad enough that Veneziano wants to kiss my cheek with the same mouth she kisses that idiot with!"

"Aw, would you like some of Boss's chapstick instead? I could kiss it better for you!" Spain cups her hands along Romano's jaw and tilts her face up, pressing her lips at the part of Romano's bangs, then on top of her nose, then against Romano's sulking mouth. Spain drags her tongue across Romano's lips before she straightens her head and grins, perfectly self-satisfied like a perfect moron.

Romano can't find the words to tell Spain how utterly stupid she is-thinking that something dumb like this fixes everything-before Spain is kissing her again. Romano is going to laugh, right in Spain's stupid crazy mouth. But the longer Spain kisses her like an idiot the louder and more mocking Romano can laugh at her delusion later, so Romano leaves the spoon beside the stove and lets Spain make a fool of herself a while more.


End file.
